


Brake Lights

by eerian_sadow



Series: PJ Anniversary 2017 [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Injuries, ProwlxJazz10thAnniversary, Spark Merging, bring all your tissues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 08:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12165237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: Jazz rescued Prowl from a Decepticon prison, and everything went downhill from there.





	Brake Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Mind those tags up there. Seriously.
> 
>  
> 
> Fills my prompt "The Pilot Just Died"

Prowl groaned in pain as the shuttle shuddered around him, jostling his entire frame and tearing open his barely-sealed injuries. He felt the energon start leaking from the hole in his lower back, though the sound of the fluid hitting the deck below him was drowned out by the tortured shrieking of over stressed metal as the small ship was fired on.

Pessimistically, he thought that he should have known that Jazz’s legendary, probability defying luck would give out while he was bleeding out in the cargo bay on a makeshift berth. Nothing else would have been believable when the saboteur was involved. 

After long kliks of listening to the metal scream and bend, everything in the ship fell into a ringing silence. Prowl didn't waste energy on rebooting his audio receivers to compensate for the sudden lack of sound; they would either adjust on their own or he would have more important things to worry about.

Like the air that began rushing past him, indicating a hull breach.

A lack of atmosphere inside the ship wouldn't kill them, but it would hamper communication--especially if his comm went down as his body began shutting down non-vital systems to preserve what little energy he had left. 

Thirty seven percent and falling.

 _”Prowl, can you hear me?”_ Jazz’s voice over the comm system he had just been thinking about startled him more that it should have.

_”I am here, Jazz.”_

_”Thank Primus. I was afraid they'd gotten the cargo bay with that last shot.”_ The ship shuddered again and Prowl felt the last of the atmosphere be sucked past him. Jazz swore in several dialects as the artificial gravity shut down a klik later. _”I got bad news and worse news. Which do you want first?”_

 _”I…”_ Prowl bit his lip as a flash of pain jolted him as his wings tried to flare in irritation. _”I do not know that it matters, at this point.”_

 _”Yeah, you're probably right.”_ Faintly, he could hear the sound of Jazz opening an access panel. _”So the bad news is that we've vented all the atmosphere and we're losing all the other life support systems, including lights, in about a groon when the batteries run out. The really bad news is that the whole front half of the ship is gone. We've got no controls and no pilot. We are dead in space.”_

_”Jazz, I am afraid it is worse than that.”_

_”What, are you bleeding out again?”_

Prowl fought the urge to voice the panic he was starting to feel as he put the pieces of their situation together. If they were going to die, panic would not help them. _”That is also a problem, yes. But Jazz, if we have no controls, we cannot prevent the decay of our orbit as Cybertron’s gravity overtakes us.”_

The visored mech swore creatively again. _”And to put the rust sprinkles on the energon goodie, the escape pod’s useless, too. One whole side got torn off with the bridge. I’m… I’m sorry, Prowl. This is not how this daring rescue was supposed to go down.”_

_”Do not apologize. I am not deactivating alone in a Decepticon prison.”_

_”Yeah, I guess.”_ Jazz sighed. _”Mind your feet in a few kliks. I’m going to come into the cargo hold through the air vents.”_

 _”I will be expecting you. Be careful.”_ The tactician drew his knees up, deciding not to worry about how much more energon he would lose in this position. Deactivation from bleeding out was infinitely more preferable that deactivation from burning up in the atmosphere. Then he settled in to wait for the other mech.

A few joors later, Jazz slithered down from a ceiling vent, close enough to use one of Prowl’s knees to anchor himself as the lack of gravity tried to carry him into the warped decking of the floor. Prowl grimaced at the flare of renewed pain, but didn’t complain.

 _”Sorry bout that. I forgot that was gonna pull on that hole.”_ Jazz gave him a sympathetic look. _”I know I always say not to tell me the odds, but what are our odds of getting out of here?”_

 _”They are not worth mentioning. Even if I were here with Mirage and you were on the ground, they would not rise above one percent.”_ Prowl extended a hand to the other mech, hoping Jazz would reach out for the comfort he was offering. _”We have finally run out of miracles between us.”_

Jazz took his hand and let the Praxian pull him up toward his chest. The saboteur snuggled in against him with another sigh. _”Wish we could at least get a message to Prime. Say goodbye.”_

 _”Perhaps it is better this way. Less of a blow to morale, if they think we’re missing in action, rather than confirmed deactivated.”_ Prowl wrapped his arms around the other mech and held him tightly. _”May I tell you something that I should have said long before we were in this situation?”_

_”Sure. Long as it ain’t a confession that you’re really the one who stole my collection of Polyhexian musicals.”_

_”That was Mirage and we all know it.”_ Prowl’s lips quirked up at Jazz’s attempt to keep his spirits up. _”I wanted to tell you that working with you, and later becoming your friend, have been the best experiences of my life. If we had met before the war, I think you would have been someone that I wanted to try for a real relationship with.”_

 _“Huh. I guess after all these vorns, that’s nice to know.”_ The saboteur nuzzled against the tactician’s chest carefully. _”Would have said yes, if you had ever asked. Kinda wish you had, even.”_

 _”I do, too.”_ The Praxian frowned as his systems flashed a danger warning at him. _”Jazz, my fuel level is at twenty five percent and still falling. I have approximately ten joors before falling into stasis lock.”_

 _”You want me to patch you up again?”_ Jazz’s tone was suddenly disbelieving, and the tactician could understand why. Patching his leaking fuel lines would only delay the inevitable.

_”No. I simply wanted you to be aware that you would be alone soon.”_

_”Oh. Thanks for that, I think.”_

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and Prowl tried not to regret that it was his poorly chosen words that had caused it. He didn’t want their last moments together poisoned by negative feelings.

 _”Prowl?”_ Jazz spoke again after two joors. _”You think maybe I can get a last request? Since we aren’t going to have another chance.”_

 _”You may ask,”_ Prowl replied. _”Though I reserve the right to say no.”_

 _”Yeah, of course.”_ The visored mech leaned up just enough to look the Praxian in the optics. _”I just… Will you merge with me? If we gotta go, I’d rather go with you and feeling good, if it’s an option. You know?”_

Prowl considered the request for a long moment. A spark merge would use up his remaining fuel almost immediately, thought he would never feel it as his systems shut down. He would also not feel the pain as his spark flickered out or fall into stasis with the knowledge that he had left Jazz to die painfully and alone.

 _”Yes, Jazz. I will merge with you.”_ The tactician unlocked his chestplates. _”I would rather go with you than know that you would burn up in re-entry. You will have to manually open the plating, however. The motors are damaged.”_

 _”No problem.”_ Jazz reached out and carefully pulled the Praxian’s chest plates apart, exposing his spark. The the saboteur opened his own chest plates and smiled up at Prowl. _”Thanks, Prowl. For everything.”_

_”It has been my pleasure, Jazz.”_

Jazz leaned forward, and their sparks reached for each other. As they merged, they were wrapped in warmth and peace, surrounded by affection and love. There was no room for pain or fear where they were. There was only themself, and love.

And then there was nothing at all.


End file.
